Me Too
by CalPal052699
Summary: My version of what would've/could've/should've happened had Peeta not been hijacked. Takes place during Mockingjay.
1. Chapter 1

**_So I know that this scene has been written time and time again, and, honestly, I don't think my version lives up to half the other ones, but I did what I can._**

**_What would've happened had Peeta not been hijacked, in my mind (I guess). lol. AU (you know, because in the actual story Peeta was hijacked and hated Katniss) and probably sorta OCC._**

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_"Peeta's awake already, sitting on the side of the bed, looking bewildered as a trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes, check his pulse. I'm disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke, but he sees it now. His features register disbelief and something more intense that I can't quite place. Desire? Desperation? Surely both, for he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feet, and moves toward me. I run to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. His hands are reaching for me, too, to caress my face, I think" - Katniss Everdeen (Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins)_

He reaches me, disbelief and desire shining through his blue eyes. The same blue eyes that I thought I'd never see again, more than once. The same blue eyes the comforted me after I woke from a horrid nightmare. The same blue eyes that mirrored my fear as we shook hands at the reaping of our first games. The same blue eyes that shone with love whenever he talked about me. The same blue eyes that convinced me people needed me. The same blue eyes that my grey ones locked with so many times. The same blue eyes that would cause my lips to instinctively press to his. The blue eyes that now, and always, made me feel safer than anything else ever had.

It was all like a dream as his hand cupped my cheek, my arms wrapped around his waist, my hands met at his lower back, my lips met his. The kiss was a mixture of many things, most I didn't even know you could mix into one perfect kiss. Well, perfect besides the doctors watching and the hospital room that was so sterile it smelled of cleanliness. Besides that, the love and kindness of the kiss mixed with the desire and desperation made the lip lock none other than perfect. So perfect that the few imperfections faded from my mind as soon as his warm, soft, damp lips made contact with mine. My hands tightened around his waist and his hand that wasn't on my cheek went to my waist, pulling my lower body flush against him.

As my lips caressed his again, I felt a estranged yet oddly familiar feeling arise within me. Instinctively, my hands made their way out from around his back and circled his shoulders instead, allowing my fingers to thread through his ash-blond hair. Doing that, I pressed his face harder against mine, pressing our lips harder against each other. His hand moved from my cheek to join the other of my waist, pressing my entire body to his. My whole body felt like it was on fire.

I suddenly realized what that oddly familiar yet new feeling was. It was a feeling I had only gotten twice, both with Peeta. It was that feeling that made my stomach knot. It made every nerve in my body come alive, all wanting to feel Peeta. It was a mixture of tingling and burning travelling from my core throughout every part of my body, my arms my legs, all the way to the tips of my being. As if that realization changed something in me, I pressed my entire body against his, hard. My boobs were pressed against his chest. My hips were pressed to his. Our mouths still joined us. I hadn't felt this alive since that day on the beach with him, and even then this feeling of heat engulfing my body wasn't this overwhelming.

I wouldn't have pulled away, had the need for oxygen not gotten in the way. I pulled away slowly, gently releasing his lips from mine and loosening my grip on his hair. I smiled at him, biting my lower lip to keep from letting out a choked sob - I had only then realized I was crying - and he smiled back at me. Next thing I knew, my chin was resting against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around my back and held me in a tight hug. I didn't fight against it. Actually, I released his hair completely and circled his neck with my arms, holding his head tightly against my own shoulder. My body felt like it molded to his, fitting with his like he was the second piece to my puzzle. Usually, I'd find a hug this long awkward. But this time, it just felt... right. Perfect... almost.

The things that made it imperfect - the doctors watching - decided that they had enough of our joyful reunion. One of the three cleared his throat. Another clicked his pen a few times. And another tapped his pen against his clipboard of medical documents impatiently. I pulled away from Peeta, not wanting to but knowing it necessary. I desperately hoped the doctors didn't notice the blush I knew was creeping across my face. Peeta's arm was still around my waist, holding me loosely but comforting me at the same time. I needed to feel him, physically, to know this was real, that this wasn't another dream about us being reunited. I never realized how much I needed Peeta until I was separated from him.

I had completely missed a conversation between Peeta and the doctors, I guess, because when I finally acknowledged my surroundings, besides Peeta, the doctors were walking past me. I only snapped out of my own mind when a pen brushed against my upper arm. Next thing I knew, the door behind us was closed and, for the first time in what felt like forever, I was alone with Peeta. Part of me wanted to talk about... everything, while the other wanted him to kiss and pull me against him again. Instead, though, I just smiled shyly and waited for him to do something. He simply led me to the bed, where I sat next to him.

I looked over him quickly, taking in his appearance. I hadn't seen him in a while and, though his face looked pretty much the same, if you looked closely you could see the effects his time in the Capitol had had on him. In general, he was skinnier. It was most obvious in his arms and abdomen. I silently wondered how much they had fed him. His hair was long, scruffy and matted. His face looked like he hadn't shaved in a while and I came to the possible conclusion that they had only shaved him for his TV appearances. His blue eyes, normally kind and loving and somewhat innocent - yes, still to a certain extent after our first Games - were filled with pain, but still love. I realized that the love in his eyes was directed at me, and only me. I wondered if mine showed what I was feeling too.

As I took in his appearance, realizing just how battered and abused he truly looked, he reached over and took my hand out of my lap, intertwining our fingers. I looked up at him, locking our eyes, and smiled shyly. That time, he didn't smile back. The love was still in his eyes, but the blue orbs were overwhelmed with one emotion. Pain. I felt horrible, wondering if my actions had triggered a bad memory, or made him feel bad about himself or self-conscious. If anything, he definitely didn't need to feel self-conscious. Battered or not, Peeta Mellark was... good looking. Something told me, though, that he wasn't fond of the way his cheek bones showed just a tad more, or the way the bones in his wrists were prominent. I'm pretty sure he liked the muscles years of helping his dad at the bakery had allowed him to build up.

I decided to stop taking in his appearance, since it was clearly upsetting him or making him uncomfortable, or both. Not sure of what to say, I just looked at him. Words had never been my thing, they had always been Peeta's. But he wasn't talking, so I wasn't either. I didn't want to say something that would upset him and, at this point, I really wasn't sure what, if anything, was safe territory.

"Katniss" he suddenly whispered. "I... I don't know what to say" I realized that, as much as I had no idea what had happened to him, he probably knew very little about what was going on with me. He didn't know what was safe territory with me either.

"Anything, Peeta. I just need to... hear you, so I know it's really you" I told him, opening myself up to him.

"Same" he murmured. After that, another silence fell upon us.

I wanted to say something, to let him hear me like he needed, but I still didn't know what to say. I didn't want to get right into what the Capitol did to him. I sorta wondered if I even wanted to know at all. So, I needed to find something else to talk about. So, I start with one sentence I knew wouldn't upset the Peeta I knew.

"I missed you" I said softly, barely above a whisper. His eyes softened and the pain that had been there earlier faded back to pure love and... awe? "A lot"

"Me too" he said softly. I could feel his thumb rubbing mine softly. "A lot" I smiled, a bit.

"It was... horrible here without you" I admitted. It was true. There were days where I was so upset that not Gale, nor my mom, not even Prim could snap me out of my funk. I had only needed one thing. Peeta. Now, he was right beside me and that feeling of pure need for his eyes, gazing into mine, his arms, holding me tight, him, being... him, was fading fast. "I... I needed you. No one... understood... like you do" I admitted softly.

"I know" he said, speaking just as softly as I was. "I needed you more... more than ever before" he admitted. This was a moment of true vulnerability. I moment I would cherish, forever.

"Me too" I whispered.

Once again, a silence fell over up, this one more comfortable than the past two. His thumb kept tracing circles against my thumb, calming me. I knew he was there, this was real, he wouldn't leave me again. That knowledge made tears well up in my eyes, to the point where I couldn't hold them back. A few slowly rolled down my cheeks and his thumb reached up to wipe them. Just that simple action on his part made me break down in sobs. His hand, that was still on my face, moved to cup the back of my head and pull me down to I was crying into the crook of his neck. I just leaned against him, crying. I think I even felt a few tears hit the back of my neck, which I knew were his. I reached up with one hand and held his head in place, rubbing the back of it softly in what I hoped was a comforting motion. This is real. Not a dream, Real, was all that was running through my head - those same words on repeat.

"This is real" he mumbled and I realized he was thinking the same thing I was.

"It is... Peeta. It is" I whispered against his neck.

I had no idea how long we stayed like that - holding onto each other like our lives depended on it while crying, and even after the tears stopped - but it must've been a while because we only pulled away when there was a knock on the door. I slowly pulled away, wiping off my damp cheeks and turned towards the door. Prim was standing there, her chin just reaching the bottom of the window. I turned to Peeta, who nodded, before motioning for her to come in. Her blond hair, in two braids, flowed behind her as she took bouncy, excited steps into the room.

"Sorry, for interrupting" she said. I saw her eyes briefly drop down to our joined hands, resting in his lap. "Peeta's doctor sent me to make sure everything was okay and ask if you wanted any food" she explained.

"What time is it?" I asked. I had no idea what time it was when I was reunited with Peeta, nor how long it had been since then.

"5:30" she answered. That was halfway through dinner time, only half an hour before the six o'clock reflection. "It's okay, though, Katniss. Peeta's doctor said you don't have to follow your schedule, for now"

"Please tell me I'm not 'mentally disoriented' again" I sighed, not realizing that I had just said the in front of Peeta until his thumb's constant movements stopped. I turned to meet his confused gaze and mouthed a 'later'. He just nodded at me.

"No. He said that having you around could help Peeta's recovery, somehow" she explained with a smile. The corners of my mouth curved into a slight smile too and, I somehow knew his had as well.

"Maybe it will, somehow" I agreed, turning to Peeta. He leaned over and kissed my cheek and it suddenly didn't seem like we had just been reunited after the Capitol had kidnapped him.

"I think it will" he whispered to me and I let out a giggle. I never giggled.

"Know what? I'll bring you your food and let the doctor know everything's okay" said Prim. I was only vaguely aware of her leaving.

The light moment only lasted a few seconds after Prim left before Peeta spoke. I wasn't surprised though.

"Mentally disoriented?" he asked seriously. I nodded.

"I told you it was horrible. After the Quell, I just... I don't know. My mom said it was called PTSD. Post... Traumatic Stress Disorder" I had to think for a second to remember the name, since nobody asked about it until now. "She said it was mild though, and something about it being caused by the stress of the Quell, the feeling of being betrayed by Haymitch, Finnick, Beetee and Johanna and... missing you" I explained softly. "It was all so overwhelming. But, I got out of it and I'm fine now" I smiled, trying to wipe the serious and sad look off his face.

"I know what you mean" he said, whispering so lowly I barely heard him. "I was told I had it too" I was shocked, to say the least. "Only at first, because they told me you were dead" I had to clench my jaw shut to keep it from hitting the ground.

"They... They did?" I asked. He nodded solemnly.

"They would've continued had I not seen you on TV. You should've seen how happy I was to know you were alive, Katniss" I could only imagine. But, then again, I didn't know how Peeta was doing until he got here, or if he was alive - since I saw him lifeless on my TV screen.

"I didn't know if you were alive until earlier" I admitted. "The last broadcast you were on, when you warned us about the bombing, it tuned out with us only able to see your motionless legs. I thought you were dead and went... back into a funk" I elaborated. "But, clearly we're both alive" He nodded, his face still serious and tears glistening in his eyes._ Alive but barely living_, I silently added.

It was true. My heart was beating. My lungs taking in air. My mind processing what was going on around me. My soul... hanging onto life by a thread. A thread that was only maintained by the hope of helping my country and the possibility of seeing Peeta again. And Prim. Being the Mockingjay was hard, but it was the only time I felt alive, and that was only when they let me actually do something. Prim was busy at the District 13 hospital. At times, the only thing keeping me from shutting the whole world out until I died was the slim chance of being reunited with Peeta. During those times, no one mattered, only him and getting him home, or well... here, safely and alive.

Since I was reunited with him, I had smiled genuinely for the first time since the beach at the Quell, giggled for the first time since... I don't really know when the last time I giggled was. My heart was beating faster. My lungs taking in hair at a faster pace. My brain running on overdrive. My soul... felt alive, for the first time in forever. I felt alive for the first time since that they, that kiss, that moment on the beach. My whole world seemed to have lit up a bit the moment I saw his face. My whole world was engulfed in flames the moment his lips touched mine. Since, everything seemed better than it had been since... since I don't when I last felt like this either.

He broke my thoughts with a kiss on the forehead. I wondered how long I had been lost in my mind, and what was going through his when I was. Something had caused him to kiss my head like that. It didn't really matter though. I looked up at him to see a smile crawl across his face, again. His blue eyes no longer glistened with sadness but shone with love.

"You're still so beautiful" he said softly and my heart just about burst at the sweetness of his statement. I couldn't keep a smile from spreading across my face.

"Thanks" I whispered. My eyes were locked with his, a smile still on his face and his blue eyes still shining brightly. I couldn't help it and leaned over to kiss him, again. Like the first kiss since I joined him in his room, the passion took over almost immediately. Our hands released each other, mine making it's way up to his chest, where my fingers fisted a handful of his plain grey t-shirt and his making it's way to my hip. My other hand somehow found it's way to thread through his hair, again as his cupped my cheek, gently despite the hunger of the kiss. My right hip was pressed to his left and my upper body twisted in a sort of uncomfortable way. As the pure passion of the kiss overtook my entire being, I prepared to move to straddle waist.

That was until I heard the door open. Quickly pulling away from him, I turned to see none other than my little sister Prim standing there, a tray of two servings of food and a dumbfounded look on her face. I really hoped I hadn't scarred her for life and that she'd be able to look at me the same way after this.

"Ummm... I just came to bring your food" she said, a blush slowly making it's way to her cheeks, which I knew mirrored mine. "Sorry for, uh... interrupting" she mumbled. I stood up and silently took the tray from her, not trusting myself to speak. I set it behind Peeta before taking my seat next to him.

"That's okay, Prim. We were supposed to be expecting you. Besides, I think Katniss and I needed a little interrupting" I elbowed him in the rib. How dare he say that in front of my sister? She let out an embarrassed chuckle and nodded.

"I, uh... gotta go. Mom is checking on a particularly difficult patient soon and I promised I'd go to help" she told us. I knew it was a lie but who could blame her. She had just walked in on her sister making out with her... whatever Peeta was to me. She quickly scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Peeta burst out laughing. In my opinion, this was no laughing matter.

"The look on your face" he mumbled through his laughter and I couldn't help but laugh along with him, if anything at the fact that he found it so funny that my innocent little sister walked in on us. At least she did when we were still in a somewhat okay position.

Once our laughter subsided, we both ate our bowl of stew in silence. I had never seen someone eat the oiling, slimey stew they served here as fast as Peeta did and it only reminded me that he was probably fed very little back at the Capitol. I took a few more spoonfuls of mine before handing him my still half full bowl, keeping the bread roll that came with it for myself. He looked up at me with wide eyes, as if I had just given him the most precious thing in the world, and it became more evident how hungry he had been. I mentally cursed the Capitol, simply for torturing him like that. I nodded at him and he smiled before eating the rest of my bowl as quickly as he had eaten his. I slowly ate my roll, ripping of pieces as I watched him slurp down the rest of his broth. He looked up at me, looking slightly embarrassed and I just smiled at him. He smiled back, still looking embarrassed at the way he had devoured his meal. I shook my head at him, giving him the unspoken message that I understood, and handed him the last piece of my roll. He carefully ate that more slowly.

When we were finished our dinner, I reached for his hand again. I knew he was there, real and not leaving, but I still felt the need to hold him, make sure he was staying. I also wanted to make sure he was okay, since it suddenly dawned on me just how hungry he had been back there. I wanted to protect him.

"They starved you" I half-stated, half-questioned. His eyes were once again clouded with sadness.

"Not... starved. They fed me" he stated.

"Just not enough. Peeta... I can tell you lost weight" I noticed his eyes flicker. "I mean, it's not obvious, I can just tell because... You still look... great" I tried to cover. He smiled at me.

"You can tell?" he said. I nodded. "How often have you examined my body?" My jaw dropped. Here I was, trying to have a serious conversation and he's flirting?

"Peeta! I'm serious. They hurt you and..." I trailed, unsure of where I was going with this in the first place. "And that's not right" I finally settle on a way to end my sentence.

"Katniss, I know what they did to me. I just don't want to think about it... or burden you with it" he told me, sounding sad once again. I suddenly felt horrible, again.

"Peeta... I just wanted to help. And your problems are never a burden to me" I told him, running my thumb lightly over the back of his hand. When he didn't react, I brought his hand to kiss lips and kissed it softly. He looked up and his blue eyes met mine, for what seemed like the hundredth time since we reunited. "Peeta, I'm here for you if you ever want to talk about it" I told him, not breaking our eye contact.

"I know" he said back. "I just... We'll talk about it some other time. I wanna know how you're doing, Katniss"

I swallowed hard. That was one thing I didn't want to talk about, mostly because I didn't know how I was doing. When I first got here, I was miserable, mentally disoriented, depressed. Then, Coin agreed to save Peeta and I agreed to be the Mockingjay and everything got better, if only because my new role in the war was keeping me busy. Still, though, I was upset, missing home, my life before the games, my dad and the memories that were in District 12's forest, not District 13's and, most of all, Peeta. And now, Peeta was back, and, even though everything else that was wrong in my world still is, everything seems all that much better. Peeta made everything all that much better.

"I'm... okay" I told him simply.

"Katniss, do you really think that, after years of watching you, I don't know when your lying?" he asked.

"That sounded really creepy" I teased, even though I knew exactly what he meant. After that, I watched you going home everyday. Everyday, his words rang through my head. I couldn't help but smile at the memory. "But... no" I answered. "I know you know when I'm lying"

"So tell me the truth" he countered.

"The truth is, Peeta. I don't know how I'm doing. Everything's so confusing" I admitted.

He let go of my hand, worrying me at first. Turning to him, I saw that he had moved to the end of the bed, sitting with his back against the wall. He smiled at me before patting the spot next to him. I smiled back before going to take the spot he had tapped. Instantly, I reached for his hand again and rested my head on his shoulder, seeking comfort this conversation wouldn't, couldn't, bring me. He shifted to kiss my head and I smiled at the caring motion.

"Start at the beginning" he whispered to me.

"The beginning sucked. I found out District 12 was bombed, that you were at the Capitol with them doing who-knew-what to you and Johanna and Annie, and I was depressed, scarred from the Quell, horrified that Haymitch, Finnick, Beetee and Johanna had lied to us. Mentally disoriented" I explained.

"And then?" he asked.

"And then they asked me to be the Mockingjay, the face of the rebellion and I accepted. It distracted me. I would train a lot and it kept me busy. Before I accepted, I made President Coin promise to try to get Johanna, Annie, Enobaria and, of course, you, out of the Capitol safely. When I wasn't training, I was still sad, all the time. I saw the broadcast where you warned us, you looked dead but you saved a lot of us, including Prim and..." I trailed, not sure if that was a sore subject or not. It shouldn't be, I mean, Gale came in here hurt from the mission but I've been in Peeta's room, my mind on Peeta, my hand in Peeta's, my lips on Peeta's. Actually, Gale hasn't even crossed my mind since I reunited with Peeta. Is that bad?

"And Gale?" he asked. I nodded against his shoulder. "And then what?" I smiled to myself.

"You came back" I stated plainly, hoping he knew just how much that changed how I felt about life. It was no longer horrible. I had something, someone, that made me feel happy, needed, loved, cherished. I felt.. good, for the first time in forever.

We remained silent after that, his thumb rubbing against my hand, his other hand twirling the tip of my braid between his fingers. Every now and then, his lips would press into my hair. It felt so... right. Almost perfect, if only the outside world wasn't at war. The mixture of his calming actions were slowly putting me to sleep. My eyes were just drifting shut when the door opened, this time to my mother. She smiled a bit at me, sorta apologetically. I smiled back.

"Sorry. I was asked to check on you two" she explained. She turned to look at Peeta. "How you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm good, Mrs. Everdeen" he answered. "Katniss is a pretty good nurse" I had to shut my eyes to keep them from widening. Was I the only one who heard the potential for that comment to be suggestive? Why was I even thinking like that?

"I'm sure she is" agreed my mother with a smile. "I watched her heal you before"_ Right, the cave. His leg. The kiss. That kiss,_ I remembered. "Katniss?" I opened my eyes. "Should I be expecting you tonight, or...?" she trailed, knowing both Peeta and I understood. I turned to him, planning to ask what he wanted. As soon as his gaze met mine, I forgot my question. The hope and love in his eyes was undeniable. I leaned in and pecked his lips softly before turning back to my mom.

"I think I'm going to stay here" I answered. She nodded and addressed Peeta again. "You've been through a lot, so get some rest" she told him. He nodded.

My mother left the room quickly, much like Prim had earlier. I briefly wondered if she found that situation awkward or if she had a patient to get to or something. Those thoughts didn't last long though, Peeta's lips on my forehead broke them. I looked at him and met his lips in yet another sweet kiss. I felt like I'd never get enough of his soft lips. I pulled away slowly, meeting his eyes again, before crashing my lips back to his. That kiss was more urgent and hungry, as it quickly deepened. His tongue slid against mine and a moan slipped from the back of my throat. That feeling in my stomach was coming back, and I could finally place it. Need. Want, for something more than his warm lips and the movements of his tongue. The realization shook me to that core, yet made me want him all that much more. I gripped his hair tightly, holding his face against mine. He groaned softly into the kiss and I knew I had to stop before this went too far. I hesitantly pulled away, battling with the fire in my core that I was trying to extinguish.

"You should, uh... go to bed. My mom said you needed to rest" I told him.

"You'll stay?" he asked.

"Always" I answered, as the times he had told me the exact same thing ran through my head. He smiled, satisfied, and slowly moved to lay down. I layed down to, resting my head on his chest. His heart beat against my ear. We remained like that, silent, for a little while and I wondered if he had fallen asleep. Until he spoke.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah, Peeta?" I responded.

"I love you" he told me and my heart jumped. Since when do those words make me feel like that? I wondered.

"I know" I whispered, silently adding_ I love you too_, not quite ready to hear myself say it out loud. I waited for him to drift off, which didn't take long. "Me too" I said softly, right before drifting off into nightmare-less oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, this is the longest chapter I've ever written for any story. This was initially meant to be a one-shot, but I decided to add to it because of a few requests and because I forgot to check the complete box. lol. I'm glad this turned out to be longer than a one-shot, though :) Enjoy**

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I woke up the next morning to a Peeta's lips against my head and a nurse's hand on my arm. It took a few seconds for me to realize she was trying to check on him. My face flushed as I crawled out of the bed quickly and embarrassed. He smiled at me reassuringly as he answered the nurse's various questions that she asked every time she checked on him, the ones all nurses asked all patients. I watched as she jotted notes down on her clipboard, his charts, nodding everytime he spoke. I was shocked at how many times she asked if he was in pain, covering a variety of body parts - legs, arms, head, back, ribs - and was extremely relieved when he said he was fine, in no pain, to all of them. The last thing I wanted was for him to be in pain, especially in places where I could've made it worse with my sleeping position. I wondered if they had a reason to believe he'd be in pain there, and figured they must. When I was in the hospital for my PTSD, they only ever asked me about headaches and chest aches. I had always nodded for both, since the depression had my head pounding at all times and put an undeniable pressure on my poor little broken heart, and the doctors knew it. So, I decided they must know something that would given them a reason to believe Peeta would be in pain... everywhere. And I decided to ask him about it later.

After a few minutes, the nurse motioned to the door. I turned to see my sister - who I figured must've just arrived in the room - holding a tray of food. The memory of the evening before came flooding back to me, from the blush rising to her cheeks as she witnessed me making out with Peeta to the feeling that had been bubbling up in my stomach and throughout my entire being until I heard the door open and saw her face. I found myself wishing, in the deepest, darkest place of my crazy mixed up mind, that it would happen again, the kisses, I mean, and this time no one would come in and break us apart. That, one day soon, we'd go all the way and I'd feel that pleasure that I've learnt about for years, and so would Peeta. That I'd give him that pleasure.

The sound of a fork against a plate broke my thoughts, ending my fantasy of the boy with the bread. That day long ago, I had never imagined being here with the baker's son, yet here I was, walking towards his hospital bed as the nurse and Prim left and Peeta held up a plate of eggs. I heard the door shut as I sat down next to him, trying to keep my thoughts clean as he looked at me with his loving blue eyes. I took the plate from him and took a bite of District 13's horrible overcooked eggs that had what I could only imagine was a similar texture to rubber. I hated them, but Peeta didn't seem to care what they tasted like. I had to remind myself that he was probably starved in the Capitol, and that this was most likely an improvement from the little food they would feed him, when they did feed him. Once he finished his plate, I scraped what was left of my eggs onto his plate, smiling at him reassuringly like the night before. I was fine with half a serving of rubbery eggs, and he needed the food more than I did.

I marveled at the change in our positions. Years ago, I was starving to death after the loss of my father in a tragic mining accident and Peeta gave me the bread that saved my life. That bread had fed my family for a week, until I decided to go out hunting, even though it was illegal. That bread had saved me, my mother and my little sister, the only thing, the only person, I had to live for during that dark stage of my life. Now, Peeta was laying in a hospital bed after being starved by the crazy Capitol creeps that ruined our lives, most people's lives. I was giving him my food, helping him recover from the horrible, undescribed things that Capitol had done to him. I knew they were bad though, because Peeta refused to talk about them, and his eyes clouded with sadness at any mention of the Capitol. And, just like I had before he gave me the bread, Peeta lost his father, and the rest of his family.

Wait. Did he even know they were dead? I looked up at his blue eyes, which showed no sign of grief or mourning the death of his family. Were they expecting me to tell him? It made sense, I guess. I was probably the living person Peeta trusted most. No, I was definitely the living person Peeta trusted most, despite the lies I had told him during our first games, the lies that I wasn't sure were in fact lies. But how in the world do you just tell someone that the same people that tortured him bombed his home, killing his family. Well, he must've figured something was up since we weren't in District 12.

"Katniss?" his soft, kind voice broke my thoughts. "What's wrong?" I blinked a few times to refocus my gaze, which was still locked on his blue eyes, which showed confusion and sympathy. I cleared my throat, deciding it was better to tell him knowing it could, and would probably, make him sad, than to keep it from him and risk him getting angry with me.

"Did they tell you what... happened... to District 12?" I asked hesitantly. He reached over and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"You mean the bombing?" I nodded. "They more than told me" he said softly, sadly. "They showed me... made me watch as my family and friends were killed" he elaborated, his voice getting quieter as he spoke, his eyes drifting lower until they were analyzing the floor to my left. "They showed me videos of the fires it caused, from the town to the hob, and pictures of the ashes and skeletons that remained. They showed me the bakery last, in it you could see the decomposing, mostly burnt bodies of my brothers and parents" He finished with a hard swallow, and I saw a tear fell from his eyes and onto his thigh, leaving a dark, almost black, mark on the grey fabric of his slacks. I couldn't help it and reached over to run my fingers over the spot the teardrop had left before bringing my hand to meet both of his, which were intertwined and fidgeting in his lap.

My fingers stilled his hands and he grabbed my hand tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him with me. I let him hold it as tightly as he wished, wanting nothing more than to help him. It was a few long, silent minutes before he looked up at me, meeting my eyes with his tear-glistening ones. I used my free hand to wipe a lone tear off his cheek.

"I'm sorry" It was all I could say. What else could possibly I say? He had watched his family be murdered. He had been forced by the Capitol, the murderers of his family, to look at the charred flesh of those he loved. What in the world do you say? He swallowed, hard again. And his adam's apple bobbed as he did. I could tell he was trying not to cry. "Peeta, it's okay to cry" I told him, but he shook his head in denial.

"That means they won, they weakened me and found my breaking point. I can't let the Capitol win. They can't win" he said, sadness, determination but most of all anger towards the Capitol were all more than evident in his voice. I understood what he meant. The Capitol had come close to breaking me, had pushed me to the verge of suicide, but my determination to not let them win brought me back as the strong girl I had always been, the determined one that kept her family alive, the one who risked her life for he co-tribute, the one that was victor of The Hunger Games. He was avoiding getting the horrible place where I was. He wasn't letting himself even come close to breaking, unlike I had. He was proving to be stronger than I ever was, than I ever could be.

"Yeah..." That was all I mustered in response at first. "But, Peeta? If you ever need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to, I'm here" I added after a little while, knowing he probably wouldn't want to burden me with his problems, even though it was no burden to me whatsoever. He'd rather listen to me talk about my problems, support me, even though mine failed in comparison to his. That was him. That was Peeta, sweet, loving Peeta.

He never replied to that comment, we just sat there in silence - a long yet comfortable silence. Besides Prim, Peeta was apparently the one person who I was comfortable despite the lack of conversation these days. I used to be like that with Gale too, before the Games, before the Victory Tour, before the Quarter Quell, before my life changed so drastically, before I went through hell alongside Peeta, before the star-crossed lovers act, before everything. Now, though, that relationship I had with Gale was replaced by the one I now have with Peeta, because while Gale watched on TV and misunderstood my every move and word, Peeta was going through it with me, knowing how scared I was, knowing why I did everything I did, even now understanding why I had pretended to be in love with him. But now, I wondered if I ever had been pretending, even during our first Games, and especially during the second ones.

And, as I held his tightly in mine, mirroring the strength with which he held mine, I realized something I probably would've a long time ago, and I not been afraid of the thought. I had loved Peeta, not just since he was taken by the Capitol, but for much, much longer. I couldn't pinpoint when I had fallen for him, though, and I wasn't sure if it was the love of great friend, like I had had for Gale, or the love of something more. When he took the beating to give me the bread? When I saw his scared eyes mirroring mine as we shook hands at the reaping? When he shook his head, trying to protect me, telling me not to dive into the bloodbath, right before the gong sounded to begin the Games? When he told me to run, saving my life, even after I dropped a nest of tracker jackers on him on purpose - even though I still wasn't sure that had really happened? When I found him bleeding to death on the riverbend? When I felt that thing, that I now knew was desire and love, when I kissed him in the cave? I now realized I loved him when I went after the medicine, and when I thought he had eaten the nightlock, and when I pulled out those berries. And, in those moments, I had loved him as more than a friend. I loved him, and hurt him by telling him I didn't. One day, when I could admit my feelings, I'd have to apologize to him for that, for everything.

I felt his grip on my hand begin to loosen, which is what caused me to turn and look back at his face. The first thing I saw was his blue eyes, as usual, looking back at me, and I could tell they had been for awhile, just by how they had softened and reflected an emotion I now couldn't even imagine not seeing in them when he was looking at me: love. It was always there. Always.

"Lost in thought?" he asked. I nodded, wondering if he could see the love I felt for him in my eyes the same way I could see his for me in his baby blues. "About what?" I just kept staring into his eyes as I mentally debated whether or not I should tell him. I opted to not lie, but not tell him the whole truth either. I wasn't ready to tell him I loved him, because as much as part of me was positive I loved him the same way he loved me, there was a small part contradicting that, somehow.

"Everything. You" I answered honestly. His eyebrows raised with curiosity, urging me to continue, but I didn't know what to tell him. "Just you, and what happened to us, between us" I told him, still being as honest as my mind would allow me to. My heart wanted to tell him everything I thought, but, for some reason, my mind would not let me believe it was a good idea.

"Good thoughts?" he asked.

"Sort of" I answer. "The memories aren't all that pleasant, you know?" He nods.

"I know. I definitely know" he sounded as if he was reminiscing on something, remembering something unpleasant. I was curious, but opted not to ask, causing a mildly awkward silence, at least mildly awkward to me. "Do you think it'll all be worth it?" He asked suddenly after minutes of silence, his remembering apparently done.

That's one hard question to answer. We've been through hell, to hell and back. Starting in the games, where I was responsible for Glimmer's gruesome death by tracker jackers, had to watch Rue die because of Marvel's spear and then killed him with an arrow to the neck, almost watched Peeta fade away before my eyes. Then, crowned victor, the first not-sole survivor, because of other peoples deaths, I had to face the reality of a completely different life. My friendship with Gale was almost ruined, scratching the bottom of the barrel to keep going, unable to stay the same. Everyone in District 12 adored me, except the peacekeepers. The Capitol, specifically President Snow were all after me, determined to kill me slowly, starting by hurting all those I loved, and still were. I had PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, suffering from nightmares and horrible flashbacks of the Games I was forced to volunteer to participate by the nightmare that would've been my innocent sister's death.. And, on top of everything, I had hurt Peeta, the one person that knew what I had been through, and understood me better than anyone. The only good thing that came out of that was that I had the ability to feed my family, my mother and Prim, and even a few people from the Hob with whom I had grown relatively close. The Victory Tour, which I don't even have to go over to explain why it sucked so much, with those memoirs to the fallen tributes of the individual districts, the ones that had to die for Peeta and I to survive. It was horrible. And then the Games, again, the Quarter Quell. My wish to save Peeta, which didn't work, despite him still being alive. The people who sacrificed their lives for us, specifically me. Knowing their deaths were caused by a rebellion my actions officially put into motion, and their wish to keep me alive to continue that rebellion, that war. Being away from Peeta, and another round of PTSD later, here I am, trying to figure out whether or not there's even a chance that the hell we'd been through could ever be worth it, or if maybe I would, one day, find a silver lining in the dark cloud that was created with my life.

Maybe it would be worth it, after all. Knowing our world would be safe for generations to come - even though my own children, grand-children and so-on would not be part of those future generations of children - would definitely be incredible. To see children live freely, and not fear the year they turn twelve, nor anxiously await the year they turn nineteen in order to feel safe from the reapings and the harsh reality of the Games, the harsh reality that I had been exposed to more than anyone ever should be, the harsh reality that broke so many past victors. If Prim's future children, my future nieces or nephews, could live a better life than their mother and I did, it would be worth it. If the districts were liberated, the government changed, it would be worth - especially if President Snow died a painful death, a death by me and an arrow. If I would be able to feed my family, if Gale could feed his, if everyone got to go without starving, it would be worth it. If people could be happy and do what they wanted, it would be worth it. If we won the rebellion, it would be worth it.

"Maybe" I answered softly, after what was probably minutes of thinking, replaying memories and imagining the possibilities of a future for a free version of Panem. "If we win the rebellion, if Panem is freed, you know?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I know" he said. "That would be one of the only things that would make our past year-and-a-half from hell worth it"

"One of? What else could make it worth it?" I asked, looking up at him. He turned to me and leaned over to kiss my forehead softly. He never verbalised the answer, but it still came through loud and clear. Me. Being with me. Me truly loving him would make it all worth it. And I realized that I held the power to make everything he'd been through better, worth it, because I was getting closer to being able to tell him what he wanted to hear.

I didn't say anything, only smiled sweetly, as he pulled his lips away from my head. He smiled back, just as sweetly. I leaned up to kiss him gently, softly. In the past twenty-four hours or so, the feeling of his lips against mine became more familiar than it had been in the year leading up to him being taken from the arena. It felt so right, suddenly, and always stirred something within me, like it had in the cave, on the beach, when we first reunited. That feeling was returning, once again, even with only the simple, sweet caress of his warm lips against mine. It was that bubbling heat within my core, a blazing fire spreading through my every nerve, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, to the tips of each of my fingers. Desire. I knew what it was, yet it was still a foreign feeling to me since I could count on one hand the amount of times I had felt it bubbling within my center. Peeta was the first and only person to ever make me feel that heat that develops deep within me. He pulled away slightly, smiling at me sweetly. I smiled back before using my hand's position on the nape of his neck, where it somehow ended up, to pull his mouth back to mine, trying to satisfy the growing desire for his touch. But the feel of his soft, warm lips moving in perfect sync against mine, and eventually his tongue mingling with mine, fighting for dominance, didn't satisfy anything. It only intensified that hunger. And, as I felt my panties begin to get damp, I knew I had to break it off before things got too heated. I certainly wasn't ready for what I knew would happen if I were to let things get too far, even though I wanted it to happen soon enough. I needed to be able to admit my feelings for him before we went down that bridge. And that bridge was not an option in this hospital, especially not with both my mother and Prim working in it.

I puledl away very slowly, trying to relish every last second of his lips on mine. It felt so real, so right to kiss him, and I felt the lack of physical contact with him as soon as our lips parted completely - which was stupid because our sides, from thighs to shoulders, were touching. There was absolutely no lack of physical contact, but it felt like there was since our lips were disconnected. He smiled at me, again, and I once again smiled back. My hand drifted from its position on his neck down over his shoulder and strong arm, across his hard chest, over his thigh before resting on my own. I found myself wondering if I had the same effect on him as he did on me, if that same flame and bolt of electricity ran through him when our lips met in such a passionate and heated dance, or even when it was a soft and loving one, took over his being. I knew that, if it did, there would be visual evidence just below his waistline, very close to where my hand had trailed on it's path from his neck to my thigh, but I couldn't bring myself to look. Not that I was surprised by my own hesitancy, I had never actually wondered about something like that before, after all. I had never even thought someone could think about me like that before, not until Peeta came along with his sweet words and convincing ways. Not until that look in his eyes, that look of pure love, showed me that someone could and did truly care about me, truly wanted me.

We didn't say a word as I rested my head back on his shoulder, where it had been before our short makeout session. My gaze drifted down to where our fingers were intertwined and sitting on his thigh, where they had somehow stayed during our heated kissing match. His strong hand held mine tightly, making me feel safer than I ever did anywhere else. My nimble fingers fit between his strong ones perfectly, as if the spaces between his fingers were meant to fit mine, and the spaces between mine were meant for his. It looked, and felt, so right. I wondered when I started having such mushy, romantic thoughts about Peeta, or about anyone for that matter. Yes, I had thought about him in different ways, many different ways, since we first officially met right before entering the arena for the first time. I had looked at him as an enemy, then an ally, then an enemy, then an ally, then a friend - all before they were crowned victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Then he was still my friend, and perhaps a little more, but I had been scared to death of those thoughts at the time, and then, next thing I knew, he was my fiance, my fiance that had always wanted to marry, but not under such circumstances, not simply to please the Capitol. And then we went back into the Games, the god-forsaken games that had ruined my life, our lives, and I wanted, needed to keep him alive. And then his heart stopped, and I realized just how much I truly needed him, how much I needed him alive with his sweet words and his blue eyes, even if it meant being dead myself. And then he told me straight up that nobody needed him, and I told him straight up that I did. I needed him. And then he was gone. He was stuck in the Capitol, being tortured by one President Snow. He was gone when I needed him most. Maybe that was what caused me to be so emotional when I saw him again, why I suddenly knew I needed him to be by my side forever, why I suddenly felt with such intensity a love for the boy with the bread.

My mother had once told me an expression, when I was younger and asked her how she could still love my daddy when she barely saw him, only in the late evenings when he finished bathing after a long day in the dark, filthy coal mines. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder" she had told me, a smile spreading across her face. At the time, a curious seven-year-old sitting on my mother's lap, I didn't know what it meant, how it could make sense that being away from someone could make you love them more than you ever had before. However, ten years later, a seventeen-year-old sitting next the person suddenly knew she loved, I understood, because distance had made my heart grow fonder. My time away from Peeta, while he was forced to stay in the Capitol, made my heart grow fonder of him. I still didn't quite understand how that worked, however, but apparently my mother had been right. That realization made me want one thing, to talk to her, even though it had been years since we had actually been close, but I didn't want to leave Peeta alone.

As if on cue, right as my mind came to that conclusion, the door opened and in walked Peeta's doctor. He smiled at us in that traditional doctor way. I smiled back, being polite, but Peeta tensed up. I wondered why. The doctor came over to the bedside and casually asked me to leave. I nodded, sure I was going to leave at first but Peeta's reaction to the doctor caused me to be hesitant. I leaned over and kissed his head like he had mine twice that morning.

"You'll be okay" I whispered to him, his grip loosened on my hand, his hand relaxing along with the rest of his body, as if my voice had soothed any nerves he had. He nodded at me. I turned to leave, only letting his fingers slip my grasp when I was too far to hold onto them any longer. I nodded at the doctor and left the room, peering back through the window of the door quickly to make sure Peeta still looked okay. Satisfied by his mostly calm composure, I left the door to his room and found a nurse walking down the hall. I asked her if she knew where my mother was, as the whole hospital knew who my mother was, she nodded and told me to visit the next floor down. I followed her instructions and quickly found my mother scribbling down notes in a notebook. I stood near her, in front of her, leaning against the wall waiting patiently for her to notice me all while wondering how Peeta was doing with the doctor, if he was still as calm as he had been, or if he had tensed up again since I had left. It didn't take long for her to look up from her work and see me standing there, looking back at her, smiling and greeting me by my name. I told her I wanted to talk to her, alone, and, once she got over the initial shock of her introverted eldest daughter wanting to talk to her alone, she motioned for me to follow her as she led me into nearby a vacant hospital room.

She sat down on the hospital bed, exactly like the one in which I had practically spent the past day in with Peeta, and motioned for me to sit next to her. I did, crossing my hands over my crossed legs and looking down at them as I fidgeted nervously. I hadn't had a conversation like this with my mom... well, ever. She reached over and took one my hands in hers, making me look up and meet her bright blue eyes with my dull grey ones.

"What's on your mind, Katniss?" she asked. "Does this have anything to do with Peeta being back?" I nodded. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" My eyes widened ever so slightly at the nickname, because she hadn't called me that since I was a little girl, since before my father died. After that, she barely called me anything and when she did, it was always my name.

"Nothing's... wrong" I admitted softly. "It's all good... better than ever"

"Then what's bothering you?" she asked, her tone soft and sweet.

"I think..." I trailed. I couldn't tell Peeta, the person I officially trusted more than anyone. How could I tell my mother, the person who shut down on Prim and I, leaving me to raise my precious little sister? "I think..."

"You love him" she concluded matter-of-factly. My eyes widened once again as I wondered how she could possibly have known. How she possibly knew me well enough to know what I was getting at. I nodded.

"I think I do" I finally uttered out.

"You think?" she asked, sounding surprised by the fact that I wasn't a hundred percent positive of my own feelings. I nodded.

"That's why I wanted to talk. I need to know if there's any way to know for sure" I told her softly, looking back down at my lap and hands, slightly embarrassed by my request.

"How does he make you feel?" she asked. I looked thought about it for a split second, smiling as I did, before she spoke. "You love him" she stated again, making me look up.

"But I didn't even answer you yet" I argued, knowing that it was argument I was probably going to lose.

"Katniss, I asked you a question about him and you were smiling within a second. Before you met him, that never happened" she answered and I realized the truthfulness of her statement. Before, the only people who could get me to smile were Gale and, and that was only if he said something funny or when she was doing something innocent and sweet, and when she wasn't starving to death because of my mother and I failing her. The simple thought of... well, no one would make me smile - maybe, every now and then, the thought of Prim would. Never a boy, though. And then Peeta Mellark came along and changed everything, changed me. "You love him" she repeated, just as sure of her statement as earlier.

"I do" I admitted softly, finally able to say it surely to someone other than myself. "But I can't bring myself to tell him, mom. Why? He tells me all the time" I asked.

"It's new to you, Katniss. Peeta has loved you since-"

"We were five" I finish, smiling at that memory as well, the one of the day he fell in love and the one of the day he told me, which was one of the few days in the Games that wasn't all that horrible, even though he was dying, had a super high fever and was delusional.

"You're doing it again" she told me, but I had already realized that. "Anyways, it's new to you, and it scares you" she told me, and it made perfect sense. I had always said I didn't want marriage nor children nor, for those reasons, love. But Peeta would want marriage, and children, and those things came with... love, which he unknowingly already had.

"Thanks, mom" I smiled at her. "It really helped" She squeezed my hand, which I had forgotten she was even holding in the first place.

"Thanks for talking to me. It's been forever" she said sadly, and I knew she was remembering the years she had spent blocking out everything, even Prim and I, the years after my father passed away. And then I realized something else, I did the exact same thing as my mom did when my dad died, shutting out everyone and everything, when Peeta was taken by the Capitol, when I didn't know if he was alive or dead.

"I know" I said, beginning to stand up. Once I'm on my feet, she pulls my hand gently, making me turn to face her once again.

"Katniss, you love him, don't let your fear stand in the way of your happiness. Trust me. You can trust Peeta with your heart. He won't hurt you. He loves you" she told me softly. I nodded, completely believing her, before turning away without a word and leaving the room.

I made my way back up to Peeta's floor, a happy smile on my face thanks to the heartfelt conversation I had with my mother. Not only had it made me realize how I truly felt about the boy with the bread, but it was nice to have a conversation with my mom like that, like one between a normal mother with a normal daughter. I got to his door and peeked through the window to see the doctor still there, and Peeta looking upset, a mixture of sadness and anger spread across his features. I wanted to barge in and make him feel better, but opted not to, figuring the doctor must know what he was doing and that he wasn't intentionally hurting Peeta. I turned away, not wanting to see Peeta upset any longer, and decided to go get us some lunch. Peeta needed food to recover from his time in the Capitol. I went back to the elevator and made my way up a few floors to the floor that held the district's cafeteria. The line up was short, most people were already sitting at various tables eating with friends and family, so it didn't take long for me to be walking about with a tray that held two meals in hand. I left the cafeteria without even looking around to try and find my friends or possibly Prim, who may or may not have been eating lunch at the time. I walked down the halls with my tray, earning myself a few confused glances because it was District 13 policy that everyone eat in the cafeteria, but most of them nodded in realization when they recognized me as the Mockingjay, noticed my doubling of food, and remembered Peeta was back. A few people even congratulate me on his return, and I responded with a truly happy thanks.

When I got back to Peeta's floor, I saw the doctor speaking with the nurse I had spoken to earlier. I walked by them and right to Peeta's door, finding him sitting there alone, still looking as upset as he had when I glanced through the window minutes before. I opened the door slowly and saw his face light up slightly as he saw me enter with the food. I went over and took my place next to him again, placing the tray on his lap. He picked up one of the bowls of stew, that was in fact made with real meat so I figured Gale must've gone hunting. Surprisingly, I didn't wish I had gone with him. I had enjoyed my time with Peeta more than I had enjoyed hunting with Gale since my first Games. He ate the bowl of stew as quickly as, if not faster than, the day before. Once again, I offered him half my stew, because he still needed it more than me and, even when it was made with real meat, the broth in the stew was still disgusting, in my honest opinion. We both devoured our mashed veggies before eating the bread roll we always got with lunch and dinner. The bread was the best part of every meal, but it didn't compare to Peeta's bread, which I had tried a few times between our two rounds in the Games. He was silent, and I watched as he carefully ate his roll, splitting it in two and taking medium sized bites, chewing each of as if savouring the taste. It reminded me of myself, with all food, back when I was almost starving to death. It was the same thing I did with the last slices of the burnt bread he had thrown at me. Even that bread, wet from the rain, muddy from the ground it had landed on and burnt, was better than District 13's rolls.

Once we finished our meal, I took the tray covered in empty dishes and placed it on the nightstand next to the hospital bed. Our hands free, I intertwined our fingers once again, smiling as I felt his big, strong hand once again take mine tightly, tighter than before. I could tell he was still upset, we had yet to say a word to each other since I returned with the food, and I knew it wasn't just because we were eating. He was holding something back. I lightly ran my thumb over the back of his, trying to calm him down. I silently wondered what the doctor had said or done to upset him so much, and wondered if it had something to do with him being so nervous when he first walked in. I tried to remember which of the three doctors he had been when I first arrived, the had been one to check for physical injuries such as broken bones, one to check his vital organs for any permanent and potentially life threatening issues and a psychologist. Then I remembered, the doctor who had come in was the psychologist that had been there, the one that had left first but promised to return to follow up on Peeta's treatment. Treatment for what, I didn't know. Nor him, nor Peeta had told me what he was helping him with, and I suddenly felt the urge to know what was running through his mind.

"Peeta, why does that doctor bother you so much?" I asked, probably sounding completely random. He shrugged, obviously not wishing to tell me. "Please, Peeta. I want to know. I want to help you" I begged, and then realized how unlike me that was, unlike the not-in-love version of me.

"He just makes me talk" he answered softly. Talk? Peeta was great at talking, amazing with words, unlike me.

"About?" I asked. I really wanted to help him. I loved him, and hated to see him hurt or upset. Love had certainly changed me.

"About what happened in the Capitol, the stuff I'm wasn't ready to talk about" he answered somberly. I hated it, how sad he sounded.

"Are you ready now?" I asked, but continued before he could answer. "I want to help you, Peeta. I hate seeing you upset like this. And you know I'm no psychologist, it would be the help of a friend, not of a doctor who thinks they understand but don't" I add. I know how annoying psychologists can be, I had to see one for months upon my arrival in District 13, for my PTSD. They always tell you they understand, and ask you stupid questions that you don't want to answer, or make you retell stories that bring back horrid memories that you want nothing more than to forget. He didn't seem to have PTSD, though, even though it would be more than reasonable if he did.

"You're right, Katniss. But do you really want to know? I don't want it to change your opinion about me" he asked softly, still speaking low and somberly.

"Peeta, finding out what the Capitol did to you will only make me think higher of you, show me how strong you truly are, even though I already know you're much stronger than I am you are" I told him honestly. He had been kidnapped and tortured by the Capitol, but was in better mental shape than I was when I was brought to the District, and his whole family and most of his friends were dead. He had been through much more than me, but I shut down and he didn't.

"Okay, I'll tell you"


	3. Chapter 3

I actually froze in spot. I truly wasn't expecting him to just agree like he had. I thought it was going to take more time, more effort on my part, proof of how much I cared for him - as if our heated make out sessions that were first for me didn't qualify as exactly that. But he had just agreed, and I suddenly felt an unexplainable ball of nerves arise within me, consuming my being so quickly it froze me where I was sitting, every nerve of my being consumed by shock and fear overpowering my desire to know what had happened. And, for a split second, I thought about telling him he really didn't have to, that it was fine if he wanted to wait. Selfishly, I kinda wanted him to wait. I wasn't sure how I could support him - not when he was stronger than I had been after the games, not when I had crumbled under the pressure of my own life, not sure if I could handle knowing what had happened to him while I was being taken well care of. But, the tiny, almost non-existent selfless part of me wanted him to tell me, wanted him to open up and feel the support I had felt from all of Thirteen. That small part of me had an overwhelming need to help him, to hold him, to make him feel as okay as possible, and as loved as he truly was, even without knowing it, and that need was more powerful than any fear and uncertainty I could, should and would ever feel. That need consumed my being like the fear had before, replacing the familiar feeling of worry with one of love and need and... hope. And I nodded, my thumb running over his as his hand held mine.

"Okay"

He almost looked shocked at first, and I found myself wondering if I was that transparent, if my face had revealed the doubt that had paralyzed me, or, if maybe he thought I would change my mind, like I had debated doing. Then, his facial expression switch to one of pain, sadness and fear, a grimace revealing to me his discomfort when it came to the subject, and the depths of the pain he had endured, the emotional burden he held over his head like a weightlifter holding a barbell that doubled their own bodyweight with only their strength keeping in from crushing them, breaking them. His gaze moved from me and down to our hands in his lap, where the pad of my thumb continue to run over his in a continuous attempt to comfort him, which I wasn't sure was working. But I kept doing it, knowing that was the very thing he was watching as he tried to make sense of the images and words and memories running through his mind, the things he was going to tell me, the things he wanted to tell me and the things he was unsure about telling me about. I knew that's what he was doing, because that's what I had done when I had PTSD, analyzed what I could and couldn't tell various people, what I should and shouldn't tell various people, all of which I wouldn't tell anyone, no matter who asked, no matter who spoke, no matter who expressed an unspoken curiosity. I had remained quiet, and as we remained in our position, still as silence filled the air surrounding us, I wondered if he would do the same, and hoped he didn't. Because I knew first hand how painful that was, how hard it was when you kept everything to yourself, holding up the two-hundred pound barbell without letting anyone come near you, without even listening to their offers to help, without even thinking twice about letting them into the world that had become hell.

I was going to say something else, only to break the growingly painful silence that filled the room - painful because I knew he was suffering, I knew he was upset, I knew he was hurting and I knew that, until he let me, I couldn't do anything to help him. I was about to tell him it could wait, that I kinda knew sorta what he was going through, that I understood the want and need to keep it to yourself, all out of fear of people not understanding, not even contemplating the fact that maybe, just maybe, they might, but he spoke first.

"I thought you were dead" It was one sentence. One sentence he had already told me. One sentence that told me something I already knew. One sentence that expressed the depth and the trigger of the pain he was feeling. One sentence telling me where his pain was rooted, in the fear of losing the one he loved, in the fear of losing the one person who could almost understand exactly what he had been through, the fear of losing me. It was the same place as where mine had been rooted, the same place as where my pain and sadness was slowly having its roots ripped out of. The same thing that made up the beginning of the horrible dark tunnel I had been stuck in, the dark tunnel like those of the coal mines - no longer active, no longer in use, no longer the main place of export from District Twelve, no longer part of a district, barely part of Panem - that had been the place of my father's death, the dark tunnels that had hidden the light of the world from me, not once, not twice, but at least three times. The dark tunnels that were slowly lighting up, the uneven rocks on the walls becoming slightly visible, small hints of shadows playing with my mind as they came and went, the dimmed light of our world slowly becoming a part of my life again, slowly brightening, only slightly, the deepest, darkest parts of my life.

I found myself nodding, acknowledging not only his statement, but every unspoken thing that came with it, every thing he was telling me without a word, without eye contact, without a motion, only the tone of his voice, the low and somber tone revealing the dimness of the tunnels he was stuck in, just like the ones I was stuck in. And, as I nodded, I found my gaze dropping to our hands too, the same place I somehow knew his blue eyes were focussing on, and my grey eyes did the same.

"It was horrible" he added, and I couldn't help but let my mind drift to had horrible it had been to think President Snow had killed him, had wanted to hurt me - not him - me, so badly that he took away the life of the person he knew I loved, even when I wasn't ready to think it, to admit it, to let myself know, to let anyone else know. And knowing that, if Peeta was alive, if Snow had, for some reason, spared his life, that he was being tortured, being hurt, being broken, or at least suffering the attempts the Capitol had at breaking him. "I had lost the only good thing left in my life" My heart fluttered, something I had felt only with him, something that had been one of the first signs, to me, that my feelings for him were deeper than the act I played them off as. It was that feeling that had told me he needed to live, because I wanted someone else to feel the strangely amazing feeling in their chest, the one I believed I could never give anyone. The one I thought I would never, ever feel again, because I thought he was dead. But he wasn't, and there I sat, that feeling in my chest reminding me that all was not gone, that his light would find a way to shine through and lighten the dark tunnels that surrounded me. "Then they, and I, saw you on TV" he continued. I could only picture the look on my face, and wondered if it was like the one on mine had been when I first saw him on my TV, alive and okay, better than I thought he would be. I tried to picture the joy on his face upon seeing me alive, contradicting everything the Capitol was telling him. "And hope was restored" As I closed my eyes, breaking their unbroken focus on my thumb still moving against his, I could remember that same feeling rushing through me - the feeling of knowing the boy with the bread, my one and only companion in the horrible life we were living, my symbol of hope - and I left out a soft sigh of contentment... almost... peace, remembering how good it had felt. "And then they tried something new"

I realized that, whatever the second thing they tried - or perhaps the second one he was comfortable telling me about - was something he would be telling me for the first time. It would be a revelation to me, unlike the fact that they had told him I had passed away, and I wasn't sure how I'd react. I was pretty sure, though, that it was worst than trying to convince him I was dad, if it was their second attempt at breaking him, and, by doing that, breaking me. It would be plan B, their second resort, their plan that they knew would do more damage then the first, hurting him more than the first, hurting me more than the first.

"They injected me with tracker jacker venom" he told me softly. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I remembered my own experience with the toxic venom. The hallucinations. The colors. The wobbliness of the world. The difference between reality and fiction gone as the venom ran through your veins. It was a horrible experience, a horrible feelings, and almost impossible to completely recover from. In fact, even after over a year, I wasn't sure if Peeta had actually told me to run before I got killed, or if it was my subconscious giving me the message through the voice of the one person to whom I would listen, even if, at the time, I never would've admitted it. "Then they'd show me clips... of you" he continued. I could here his voice shake and crack as he spoke, his pain coming through loud and clear as I tried to figure out where this was going. "Things that never really happened" I felt my brow furrow in confusion as he said it, wondering what exactly the Capitol was trying to do. Tracker Jacker venom. Manipulations of my actions, of my words, of me. False information. I drew my gaze away from our hands to face him. He was still looking down, his gaze locked on the place where mine had just left. I could barely see his face from his position, but I could see the corner of his one eye, and the tears dropping from it. I realized that this, whatever the Capitol had done to him, to hurt him, to hurt me, had come truly close to breaking him, because he was crying. He was doing exactly what he had told me was letting them win. "They told me you hated me, that you killed my family, and my mind didn't know what was real and what wasn't" he added, and it all made sense. They had used the Tracker Jacker to confuse him, to blur the line between reality and fiction so they could convince his I was the bad guy, not them, but me. They wanted Peeta to hate me. They wanted him to despise me. They wanted him to be against me. They wanted him to be out for me, to want to kill me. "They wanted me to hate you, but it didn't work" his broken words echoed my thoughts, and I saw another tear drop from his eye. He was hurting, deep inside, in a hidden part of him. "Because they can change the mind, and what it remembers, but they can't change the heart and what it feels"

That last sentence. Those last words. The last crack of his voice as he uttered out his last word. It all flipped a switch within me. It made me realize exactly how much Peeta Mellark loved me. He loved me enough to still love me after what the Capitol did to him After they made me out as the most horrible person in all of Panem. When his mind was doubting me, when his heart heart didn't, when he was torn. He opted to believe his heart, that he once loved me. That he still loved me. That he would always love me. No matter what. And he had proven exactly, since we've been reunited in Thirteen. He smiled. He kissed me. I kissed him. He told me he loved me. I almost told him I loved him back. He opened up to me. He was opening up to me. He was telling me things he might've only told his doctor, if even him. He was telling me things he would tell very few people. He trusted me. His heart trusted me fully, completely, with every deepest chamber of it. His mind had been torn. He had been torn. But he still trusted me. Even after everything he went through. We went through. He trusted me. Still. And that knowledge - knowing that after every little thing that happened between us, after I broke his heart, after I kissed him on the beach, after I was willing to give up my life for him, after he was stuck in the Capitol, alone and hurt and in pain and sad and mad along with so many other emotions I was sure he was feeling, after they told him I killed his family, his parents, his brothers, his friends, all out of cold blood, after they convinced his mind to hate me, his heart still trusted me, his heart still loved me - that knowledge made me feel like I was worth something. Like in his eyes, I was precious enough to fight for. That in his eyes, in his heart, to him, I was incredible enough to love, even his mind told him not to, when his mind told him to do the exact opposite.

"I could never hate you, Katniss. Because I love you" he said.

_Me too..._ the words rang through my mind once again. _Me too... Me too... Me too..._ Like an annoying jabberjay on my shoulder who knew only those two words, who would repeat those words over and over and over again until it was told to say something else. My mind was that jabberjay, repeating those words over and over and over again like the annoying birds had repeated Prim's cries for help back in the arena. But, my mind was playing it silently, not allowing my mouth to utter out the words that were running through my mind, through the deepest, darkest, most hidden part of my mind. And they would slip from my brain and be echoed by the part of me I kept more closed off than anything, the part of me only two people had ever touched, one being my sister and the other being the boy sitting next to me. My heart. As my brain played the words over and over and over again, my heart echoed them like a prayer. Repeated them like they were the most precious thing in the world. And, in a way, they were. Those words were my biggest secret. The fact that I truly loved Peeta Mellark was my greatest kept secret, one I would keep for as long as I could, until the butterflies became to hard to handle, and I let the fluttering in my chest overwhelm me, until the bubbling heat he could make me feel in my core became a boiling pot of love and desire and I couldn't help but like it bubble over and consume me. Until I couldn't hold them back.

My hands movements had stilled against his, my whole being focussing only on those words I wanted to just let spill out, but couldn't, for some reason. I just stared at him, in nothing but awe of him. Of how unconditionally he loved me. Of how true his statements of love were. Of how much he put of with - all my lies, my acts, my half-hearted kisses, my words. Yet he still loved me with everything in him. Even his mind seemed to be healing from the hell it had been put through. Because I knew first hand that being poisoned with Tracker Jacker venom made your world feel like exactly that. Pure hell. He loved me, even after I put him through hell. And the hell I had put him through - breaking his heart - was possibly worse than the Capitol's. They made him question himself, and me. But I broke his heart. They confused his mind, but left his heart untouched. I confused his mind, and broke his heart right down the middle. Breaking it into two pieces, two pieces only I could stitch back together. Two pieces I was working hard to stitch back into one, whole, perfect and loving heart.

And that was when it dawned on me._ Me too..._ I couldn't say the words because I had already told him otherwise. I had told him I didn't love him. I told him it was all an act. I had lied to him - whether my behavior in the games or the fact that it was all an act was the lie, I wasn't sure. And I broke him, in a way worse than the Capitol ever could. In a way worse than anyone ever could. Because I, Katniss Everdeen, had held his, Peeta Mellark's, heart in the palm of my hands. My calloused, dry and hands covered in cuts and scars. And the rough skin of my palms gripped that heart like a lifeline, and then broke it. Ripped it in two, without even realizing the damage I had done. And it was that, and the guilt that came with it, that was holding the words my mind played on replay inside me. Playing like a symphony over and over again, long and slow and sweet. Echoing off the hardened walls of my hollow heart, the heart he was filling up again. My heart was hollow, and closed off, but in one piece, because Peeta still loved me. _Me too..._ And his was broken. And only I could fix it. And I would fix it. I would convince him I loved him, let him know that it wasn't all an act. I would make Peeta's heart whole again. I would do it. And then I'd say the words. _Me too..._

My mind was made up when I squeezed his hand. When I moved my gaze down to our intertwined hands. When I looked back up at him. When he moved and looked at me. When our eyes locked. Blue to grey. Aquamarine to silver. When I saw the tears in the corners of his eyes. Clouds in the blue sky. When I felt them begin to well up in mine. When the guilt became overpowering. When the memories of a pain that was so real and felt as old as life itself had taken over me. When felt his hand squeeze mine. When I spoke.

"I almost killed myself. I wanted to die. I thought I should've been dead. I thought you were dead. And I thought that, if you had died, then I should be dead, too" I admitted to him. Yes, most people knew I had been suicidal. Most people knew I wanted to die. It was common knowledge in Thirteen. Everyone knew that their Mockingjay hadn't wanted to be their Mockingjay, she wanted to go to hell because in her mind even that would be better than the world she was living in. The lonely dark world where nothing went right. Where she was alive, but shouldn't of been.

"Me too" he told me. His eyes were clouded with a sadness I had seen in mine more than once, a sadness that had become normal for me in the first few weeks, even months, upon my arrival in Thirteen. All the way up until I saw his face, his smile. Until I felt his lips press to mine in a way that reassured me I should be alive. Somehow. Those lips, Peeta's lips, they made me feel loved, needed. They made me feel like I belonged on earth. And they made the crazy, mixed-up world of Panem seem slightly less like hell. "When they told me you were dead, I wanted to die. I wanted to be with you" he elaborated. A tear leaking from his eye and rolling slowly down his cheek. I stayed silent and watched it until it disappeared under his chin. That lone tear. It was more than a tear. It was the expression of the pain he had been through. And one mirroring it fell from my eye, rolling down my cheek and I saw him watch. It was the expression of the pain I had been put through. The tears, both out of sight, but both lingering in the room in an unexplainable way. Both the signs of the pureness, of the realness of our pain, of our sadness, of our once-existent death wishes. Of the love and connection that was between us. The tears a symbol of how far we had come since those fateful days where death was all we wanted - an out to the life we were living. The life we weren't living. It was an out to a world where we nothing but two hearts, beating, forcing us to continue going through the motions.

No words were needed. Our pain was expressed without words. The tears clouding our vision - the clouds in the sky. The tears disappeared under our chins. The tears unshed. The tears shed. The tears we had shed together. The tears we had shed apart. The pain we had been through together. The pain we had been through apart. And, more importantly, the pain we had been through because we were forced apart. A rebellion in the motion. A rebellion set un motion by me. By us. By our love. The star-crossed lovers of District 12... The pain of a lost home. The pain of living a love story that was nothing like the books. The pain of loving someone. The tears that it brought on. The pain we would never forget. The pain that would leave scars. Scars. Scars on my body. My back. My arm. My heart. Scars everywhere. On me. On him. Tears. Tears shed over those scars. Scars caused by those tears. Pain creating both. It was all lingering in the air between us. Another tear down his cheek. Two more down mine. One more down his. Tears that turned to sobs. Sobs that led to a hug. A hug. His arms wrapped around me. Mine wrapped around him. Us. Holding up each other. Shaking. Sobbing. Pain. Tears. Scars. It was all coming out. It was all being expressed. No words. Just us and everything we had been through. It all filling the air between us. Not stopping until we were too weak to continue. Not fading until we collapsed onto the bed. Not disappearing until we both faded into exhausted oblivion. Gone for the moment, but sure to return.

* * *

It did return. Hours later when I awoke in his arms. His arms that were holding onto me like a lifeline. His arms practically squeezing me. His face even with mine, contorted into a grimace. A nightmare. He was having a nightmare. His pain had followed him into sleep. Into the exhaustion that had took over him. Into what was supposed to be oblivion, but for him wasn't. He let out a groan. A groan of pain. Not physical pain. Pain caused by the tears and the scars and the memories and the confusion. Pain that nobody understood. Pain that nobody would ever understand. Pain that only we could even come close to understanding. Pain I was used to. Nightmares. Screams and kicks. Waking up with bruises from where I hit myself against the wall. Bruises from the bands the hospital would use to restrain me. To keep me from hurting myself, as if I wasn't already.

As he let out another groan, I knew I needed to wake him. His grip on me was tightening. His hold on me becoming even more desperate. His body subconsciously trying to hold on to me as his mind moved to a place where everything was dark. I couldn't move, though. His death grip too solid on me, I couldn't move my arms. My legs were useless. But, in our position, I could use one thing. And I did. I leaned in to kiss him. Tried to wake him with a kiss. My mind flashed to last time someone's lips were on Peetas when he was unconscious. When Peeta died. When his heart stopped. And Finnick saved his life. When Peeta was brought back to the horrible world surrounding us. And there I was, trying to get him out of a world even worse than Panem. A world where our minds created worst case scenarios. Where they spun webs of ideas and of memories that got tangled and created the worst stories, the worst scenarios, the worst possibilities imaginable. And when his lips started moving against mine, I knew I had saved from a world so scary it was almost deadly. A world so horrifying that you would come back to Panem, to the rebellion, to the games,to the victory tour, to anything just to get out of it. He was saved from it, only for a couple hours, but saved for a little while all the same.

From there, I didn't want to pull away. Because his lips brought me somewhere nice. Somewhere where butterflies fluttered - in my stomach and in my heart. Somewhere warm. Somewhere with an always-present electric current. Somewhere were I was never cold. Somewhere where my heart was open, my mind blank, my entire being free. And I hoped my lips brought him to that same heavenly place. A place where we were free. Where those words didn't echoed in every single part of me that was affected by him - so every single part of my body. My heart. My mind. My core. My soul. It was all touched by Peeta. Maybe not physically touched by his fingers - fingers that made goosebumps pop up everywhere, that made that bubbling heat in my core boil, that made the butterflies go insane and turn to hummingbirds, that made my mind lose focus and made my heart float.

That was the feeling that was running through me at that moment. Hummingbirds. Butterflies. Goosebumps. Heat. Boiling. Bubbles. Clouds - the good kind. Blurred thoughts - none coherent as his mouth moved against mine. A moan. It slipped out as his tongue brushed my lower one, and my mouth opened, and my tongue met his. A groan. It came from him as my tongue explored the depths of his mouth. Oblivion. Pure oblivion. That's where Peeta Mellark was taking me. A place free of games, free of the rebellion, free of death and pain and the Capitol and Thirteen. A world that wasn't Panem. A world where Panem didn't exist. A world where nothing existed but him and me. And the way he made me feel. The butterflies and hummingbirds and the bubbling heat. That was everything. All that existed in the heavenly place that his lips brought me to. Fear, pain, scars and tears faded into the darkest parts of my mind and those words came to replace them. Front and center. A spotlight shining on them. _Me too..._

It was all I could think as his lips pulled away from mine. I gasped in a breath - partially because my lungs were in desperate need of oxygen, and partially because of the feel of his lips making wet, open-mouthed contact with my neck. _Me too... Me too... Me too..._ My pulse point was touched by the wetness of his moth, nipped by his teeth, soothed by his tongue. Another gasp. We were no longer laying face to face on our sides. No. He was on top of me. Hovering as his lips lavished the sensitive flesh of my neck. I was vulnerable. I would've been scared. But it was Peeta. And my mind was fuzzy. No thoughts coherent but one. _Me too... Me too... Me too..._ It was still running through my mind like a loop. A whisper of two words getting louder with every second. My mind speaking loudly to me. _Me too. Me too. Me too._ A sure statement that was blinding me from every else. A sure statement getting more and more obvious with every contact of his lips against my skin. My goosebump-covered skin. My skin that felt like it was on fire. My skin buzzing with the electric current that always ran between us.

His lips broke contact. They pulled away from my neck. I heard a whimper, and knew it was me even though it didn't sound anything like me. But, then again, that was the effect that Peeta had on me. Only him. He could make me desperate for his touch, like I was. I was so desperate - which is so out of character for me, but it's Peeta, he does that do me - that I was about to ask why he stopped. But my question was swallowed by his mouth. His tongue once again mingling with mine as it made its way into my open mouth. Another moan emerged from within me. The bubbling in my core turning into a full on boil as I felt my middle turn in knots at the idea of where we might be heading. Not knots of fear or discomfort, of anxiousness or doubt. No. Quite the opposite. Knots of anticipation. Another groan from him. Another moan from me. One thought still filling my mind. _Me too. Me too. Me too._ My whole being, every single part of me, all my nerves, every hidden corner of my mind, every hidden part of my heart, everything focussing solely on Peeta and the way he was making me feel. _Me too._

He pulled away, leaving both of us panting, trying to get oxygen back into our lungs. The whole world was clouded, blurred by the lingering desire and love induced fog that surrounded us. My eyes were locked with his, and stayed that way as he crawled off of me. I watched as he sat down in his usual spot, looking down at me still laying on the bed. I smiled and slowly moved to sit next to him. Our eyes remained locked. His eyes. A rim of blue surrounding his dilated pupils. The sky surrounding the darkness of our earth - like a view from space. I knew mine were probably the same way - a rim of silver surrounding my pupil. The silver lining to our dark lives. My silver lining. Him. His lustful eyes didn't move. I watched his eyelashes move as he blinked. Watched as the cloud of lust faded to reveal blue orbs. Blue eyes filled with a deep pool of an emotion only he can convince me is real. Love. _Me too._ I wondered if mine showed the love I had for him, too. If he could see it in my silver eyes the same way I saw it in his beautiful ones.

His hand reached over and took mine in his. An sweet, intimate movement. An instinct between us. A way to make sure we're never separated again. A way to hold ourselves together. A way to comfort ourselves and each other. But that time it was different. It wasn't an act of comfort. It was an act of pure love on his part. And the squeeze I gave his hand as soon as mine encased it was my way of returning that love. My way of telling him I understood the meaning of the natural, comfortable movement. My way of letting him know I felt the difference between that time and all the others. And, just to further prove it, I brought his hand up and pressed my lips to the back of it. His eyes widened slightly as I did so, as if he was surprised by the silent message I was transmitting. And, when I let our hands drop again, onto his thigh, I leaned over and pressed my lips to his in a soft kiss. A kiss that made everything in my feel like it was floating, flying in that rim of blue that surrounded our dark world. I pulled away, leaving the kiss short and sweet. That heat in my core, the love and desire I had for him was boiling, almost bubbling over.

"I love you" he told me. And that was it. The bubbles deep within me went over the edge. The bubbling heat and desire, both love-induced, became to hard to hold back. The guilt gone from my mind, far enough to allow me to say it. And along with the love for him that was bubbling over my edges - like boiling water would bubble over the edges of a pot - the words came out.

"Me too"

* * *

**~The End~**


End file.
